Not So Broken Dreams
by SylverAngel
Summary: [Complete] Miroku has a lot to think about following the events of the second movie. Spoiler warning. Chp. 5: "Miroku had even more of a reason to want the world to be free of their enemy. And even more of a reason to want to live to see it." MiroSan
1. Default Chapter

Well, I started this fic after watching the second movie (The Castle Beyond the Looking Glass, if I remember the name correctly, and do please correct me if I'm wrong! :) ) several months ago-- it just seemed to flow a lot easier, and I got a lot of it written that night. But, it took me a long time to close all the gaps in what I wrote, which is why I haven't posted any of it until now. This started out as a shorter one-shot, and turned into a fic that needed to be broken up into chapters, as it's on the 35th page, according to MSWord with a 12 point font. 

Seeing as this is a reactionary fic to that movie, there are some major and minor spoilers in here, although they are basically from Miroku's point of view. So please consider yourself warned. There are a few other references to things that happened in the series, as well. And some other scenes that I came up with on my own, so they're not spoilers for anything at all.

Although this story does discuss things happening as Miroku experienced them, I left a few things out that occurred in the movie. The major storyline is intact, but there were a couple of times that Miroku's actions just did not seem very in character, so I just pretended they didn't happen. So if, as you're reading, you notice the lack of certain things being discussed, that's why. :)

That being said, here's the first (of five) part of the story, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

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Not-So-Broken Dreams

Chapter 1

Was it his imagination, or had the kazaana actually been a little smaller than it was before? It surely wasn't bigger... was it?

Miroku flexed his fingers and sighed, wishing he could remove the beads and covering from his cursed hand without worry, as he'd been able to do mere hours ago. He'd been tempted to look under the purple cloth so many times since their return to Kaede's village that he had lost count. But he knew it would be pointless-- he could feel it, knew the swirling vortex in his hand was there as it had been for so many years.

He could almost believe its absence had simply been a dream, if it weren't for the pain he'd experienced upon its return. His hand still ached dully, as it had when the hole first appeared; another nightmarish event to add to the day he'd watched his father be pulled into his own air void.

Absently, he rubbed at the flesh surrounding the kazaana with the thumb of his other hand, hoping to ease the pain. Each time he used it, he felt the faint sting of his palm being torn further, but he'd trained himself to ignore it. It was those times that he couldn't drive the ache away that he knew something was wrong, like when he'd fought the mantis youkai that had disguised itself as a beautiful woman.

A slight smile curved his lips. As if getting himself tangled up in a mess with the woman wasn't enough, he'd gone to visit Mushin, to find out if his hand could be healed, and had nearly gotten himself killed there. Inuyasha and the others had come to his rescue, even though it was still early in their friendship.

He hadn't known then just how much his life was going to change, how much he was going to begin hoping that one day he would be rid of the gaping hole in the palm of his hand. He hadn't known he'd meet someone he wished to live for, someone who gave him an even greater reason for defeating Naraku than ridding his line of the curse. Someone who had her own reasons for destroying the same demon that haunted his life.

Someone who intruded into his thoughts, even though he tried to push such ideas away and think of her as merely another fighter.

Someone who had apparently snuck off to the hot spring with Kagome while he'd been too preoccupied to notice. He could see neither of the girls through the doorway of Kaede's hut. Of course he was far enough away that they might be out of his line of sight, but Sango's boomerang was also missing from where it had lain against the wall earlier.

He wasn't going to follow, not when he knew she needed time with the other girl, and perhaps by herself, to come to terms with what had happened over the past few days. He was taking the time himself, after pretending it hadn't bothered him as much as it had, pretending it was easy to fall back into the old routine of worrying that the next day could be his last.

Miroku closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, leaning back against the tree he'd been using as support while he'd been thinking. He could hear the faint sounds of Inuyasha and Shippo bickering over something-- most likely the kitsune teasing the hanyou about kissing Kagome, as he'd done all the way back to the village.

But the arguing was normal, and hearing it almost helped Miroku to forget about the events of the past few days.

Almost.

He didn't think he'd be able to let it go for good until their quest was over. When Naraku would be defeated, or he and the others would be granted death as their reward for pursuing so powerful a demon.

Hoping to banish that thought, Miroku took in a deep breath then exhaled slowly, concentrating on relaxing each muscle in turn. With the outward flow of air, he sank further back against the tree and allowed his mind to wander.

-----------------------------------------------Flashback--------------------------------------

Miroku had not yet been ready to take on the curse, the day his father died. Although its inevitability had been drilled into him, he was still a young boy at heart, taking each moment as it came and not worrying that the next could be his last.

He'd been told it would happen, from the day he was old enough to understand. His grandfather's story had been recounted time and again, so that he would never forget who it was that placed the curse on his family. He'd been taught that one day, unless his father managed to find and defeat Naraku, the burden would fall on his own shoulders. Neither his father, nor Mushin, had spared him the details, wanting him to know exactly how dangerous the kazaana truly was.

His father had demonstrated its power, shown him its usefulness against demons, and taught him never to use it against another human. He explained how it could be counted as a blessing in some ways, that it was a unique ability and could aid in exorcising youkai. It was emphasized that the air void was not something to be abused, that each use brought him closer to the end.

He'd been told the importance of keeping the air void sealed, how to infuse the needed beads with enough holy power to keep the howling winds at bay.

But in between all the teaching, Miroku had been allowed to be a boy, both his father and Mushin hoping Naraku could be found and destroyed before the curse would ever pass on to the young monk-in-training. His father had been older when his turn came, and had understood more of the implications than Miroku would at his age, even though he was trained and taught as much as possible. The boy had continued on obliviously, unaware that his time was soon to come.

Mushin, however, had been prepared. Although the older monk was not able to predict exactly when Miroku's father would die, he could sense the changes in the air void and knew it was only a matter of time. Neither of the men had the courage to tell Miroku that the end was near.

They'd been quietly enjoying their evening meal, the young boy oblivious to his father's mere picking at his food. The man had slowly stood, absently cutting off some trivial conversation with Mushin before turning and striding out of the hut.

"Chichiue?" Miroku had called after him, quickly putting down his bowl and pushing himself to his feet. Mushin wasn't quick enough to catch him as he paused for a moment in the doorway, watching his father sprint away, before moving off after the man.

He'd called out again, but his father never looked back. "Wait! Where are you going?" he'd cried, finding it unusual that his father would leave in the middle of a meal to suddenly go off after some lead as to Naraku's whereabouts. Something was wrong, and he had to find out what.

It never once occurred to him that his father's time had finally run out, that the gaping hole in his hand was about to break free of his control and swallow him whole.

Mushin had grabbed him from behind, the older monk having caught up with the boy as he slowed to watch the power of the swirling vortex explode. Miroku had struggled to get away, but he was held firmly, by strong, stocky arms, as the winds threatened to pull them in as well.

"Chichiue!" he'd nearly screamed, reaching out a hand in vain.

He squirmed and kicked and even bit Mushin's hand, finally gaining enough slack in the monk's hold to break free. But it was too late. There was one last great gust of air, then things grew quiet.

Once the winds died down, revealing the crater that was his father's grave, Miroku ran ahead. He stared in wide-eyed shock at the hollowed ground, weakly falling to his knees as sobs began to shake him.

Mushin shook his head. It was over too soon, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before his young charge would bear the weight of the curse himself. But he had a small amount of time before the kazaana would reappear; enough to allow Miroku to confirm the events for himself and come to terms, as well as he could, with what was about to occur.

He'd let the boy grieve for several minutes before going to him and gently pulling him to his feet.

"Come," he murmured. "We must be prepared for when it returns."

The young boy's lips had trembled as he looked up with tear-filled eyes. He'd swallowed hard, then nodded as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

Mushin laid a hand on his shoulder before turning and leading the way back to the hut.

Miroku had sat on the wooden floor while Mushin gathered the necessary things, hands clenched into tight fists as he struggled to keep himself calm.

No one had told him about the pain.

At first, he'd barely felt the slight itch in the palm of his right hand; his own nails were digging in hard enough to leave marks in his skin. But the itch had grown, the faintest ache beginning between the bones of his hand.

He clenched his teeth, breathing deeply as he'd been trained, pushing down the fear. He resisted the urge to massage the flesh of his palm, knowing it would be pointless.

The pain continued, growing stronger and stronger, as if the winds of the kazaana were trying to break through the flesh of his palm. Indeed they were, taking their time as if granting him his last moments to enjoy his freedom from the curse, taunting him with the knowledge that some day, his life would end just as his father's had.

The torment had lasted for nearly an hour, Mushin silently watching, waiting like a cat ready to pounce for the moment that the air void would need to be sealed.

Miroku could feel the first stirrings of the winds, and lifted his hand. His eyes widened as he stared at the small black hole that seemed to melt into his flesh as he watched.

He blinked as his arm was suddenly yanked forward, a cloth and holy beads covering the kazaana before it could do damage.

"You can not just sit there and watch it, boy," Mushin chastised, one large hand enfolding Miroku's small fist. "You've seen what it can do," he added in a gentler tone.

Miroku bit his lip, nodding at the older monk.

Mushin gave his hand a squeeze and then let go, looking away with a sigh. "You've seen the worst it can do. But don't dwell on it tonight. Rest for now. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin the rest of your life."

A single tear trekked its way down Miroku's cheek as he caught sight of his father's staff leaning, abandoned, against the wall.

-----------------------------------------------End Flashback----------------------------------

Miroku sighed, absently scratching his chest with his cursed hand. His life had changed drastically that night. Knowing that he could some day die like his father had, that he should live each day as if it were his last, had caused him to grow up quickly.

With Mushin's influence, however, he learned to enjoy each moment for what it was, to live life to the full extent.

A tiny smile quirked the side of his mouth at the thought. The old monk had taught him that evil spirits usually resided in the wealthiest of the villagers' homes, and that the owners would always welcome travelers who could exorcise such demons. Miroku had played the innocent, earnest young sidekick, eager to follow in his master's footsteps and help such deserving people, usually earning the pair a little extra through his acting.

Though the older monk would never admit it if questioned, Miroku knew there were times when he felt they should have been given more for their troubles. They were supposed to be above needing physical possessions and payment in return for services rendered.

But they were only human, after all.

And there were times when they ended up taking a little more than what was offered.


	2. 2

Okay, so we all wonder what made Miroku start groping, right? Well, this is just my take on it :) This chapter really has nothing to do with what happened in the movie, but it fit with the flow of the story, and just had to be written. Enjoy!

And if anyone notices I used a bit of Japanese wrongly, please let me know-- I really was hesitant to use any bits of the language at all, since I'm basing it on what I've seen in anime and in fanfics, but using the English equivalents, or semi-equivalents,just didn't fit the flow as well.

Not-So-Broken Dreams

Chapter 2

------------------------------Flashback------------------------------

"Mushin-sama, Mushin-s-ama!"

Young Miroku's eyes widened slightly as he caught the slight crack in his own voice. Of course it could be attributed to his being out of breath, he thought to himself as he slid to a halt and paused for a moment to pull air back into his lungs.

Mushin stood with the lord of the village at one end of the rather large home, having sent Miroku on his way towards the other end of the building. The two men paused in their conversation as the boy stopped beside them.

"Mushin-sama, I found it!"

The older monk cocked a slightly skeptical brow at his charge's enthusiasm, though only those accustomed to reading his expressions would have noticed the change. "The demon?"

Miroku nodded excitedly, pointing back the way he'd come. "Back there! In the shrine!"

He looked back and forth between his mentor and the village lord, hoping this just might be his chance to exorcise the demon on his own. Mushin usually did the honors, but this one was his! He found it first.

"Well what are you waiting for, boy? Go expel it!" Mushin ordered, shooing Miroku off with his large hands.

"Yes, sir!" Miroku called over his shoulder, already halfway down the hallway. He nearly tripped over the hem of his robes in his haste to reach the room he knew the demon was using as a hiding place.

Reaching one hand out, he caught the frame of the doorway and practically swung himself into the room, carried on by his own momentum. He braced his feet quickly and brandished his father's staff before him, eyeing every corner for traces of the demon's dark energy.

"I know you're in here! Come out!" he called, wincing as the slight echo of his squeaking voice reverberated off the walls.

Where was the stupid youkai? he thought, shoving the strands of hair that had come free of their binding back behind his ear rather impatiently. If his quarry didn't show itself soon, Mushin would come and probably take over.

This was his chance! He had to make it good, and prove to the older monk that he could exorcise the demons on his own.

Sensing movement out of the corner or his eye, Miroku turned a little too quickly. He lost his balance, the sandal on his pivoting foot catching at an uneven board in the floor while the other foot was still in the air, and he went tumbling backwards.

"Ow!" he muttered, wincing as he rested on the floor for a moment. He'd caught himself in time to avoid hitting his head, but had still injured his elbow and his backside in the process.

What he thought was a muffled giggle had his gaze shooting up towards the doorway.

He scrambled to his feet and merely gawked, hardly able to breath.

He'd never seen anyone quite like her-- long, sleek dark hair drawn up partly by several decorative combs, deep brown eyes peeking at him over the top of the sleeve she had used to smother her laughter--

"I am sorry to have laughed at you, sir," he vaguely heard her murmur in soft, melodic tones. She bowed in apology, then straightened, waiting for some response.

He could barely find his own voice. "No, no. I-it's--"

He clutched a hand to his throat, mortified at the sound that had just escaped through his mouth. He could feel his cheeks growing more heated with every second that passed.

The corners of her eyes crinkled and the sleeve went up to hide her face once more.

The creak of one of the boards out in the hallway had him nearly jumping out of his skin, though it reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing.

Miroku spun around, again brandishing the staff in all directions as he searched for some sense of the demon's energy.

His heart was still beating too quickly, and the sound echoed in his ears as he tried to concentrate.

He knew the youkai was there-- it had been before he'd run off to report his findings to Mushin. But where was it now?

He moved towards the corner furthest from the doorway, hoping that putting more distance between him and the girl would allow him to calm his racing pulse and slow his breathing.

"Is it gone yet, boy?"

At the older monk's call, Miroku whipped around, his staff swinging outwards just a bit too far. The end smacked the leg of a small table near the wall, causing the entire thing to shift and a rather expensive-looking vase to begin teetering precariously towards the edge.

With the way his luck was going, Miroku had just known something else was going to go wrong, and looked over his shoulder in time to see the vase begin to fall.

He turned and dashed forward a couple of steps, reaching out as far as he could in the hopes of stopping the pottery from falling to the floor and smashing.

He closed his eyes and lunged forward, though he knew he would be too late.

Something heavy landed in his arms just as he hit the floor.

His eyes were squeezed tightly shut. His fingers clutched at the smooth, somewhat cold, object that rested in his hands.

The only thing he could hear... was silence.

Unsure of what he would find, he cracked one eye open, then the other, and blinked incomprehensively for a moment.

The inside of the vase was rather dark, he thought idly. Except for the two glowing spots that appeared to be lit inside.

Sitting up carefully, Miroku turned the vase this way and that, looking for some thinner portion, or perhaps pieces of glass that would let light in in such a way.

The mosaic-like tiling on the surface was rather odd, as well as the overall shape of the vase-- as if it were made of many rolls of clay laid in circles one on top of the other-- but he didn't find any clues as to what would cause the glowing inside.

He once again turned the vase so he could look down into the opening, and instinctively threw it at the wall an instant later.

The pottery shattered, reforming and solidifying in the shape of a rather menacing-looking snake.

"Hah! So there you are!" Miroku cried in triumph, grabbing his staff and raising it above his head. The rings jingled as the metal rod swung in a wide arc down towards the floor.

The snake moved more quickly than he expected, however. It slithered towards him and drew back, seeming to leap towards him from a couple of feet away as it struck.

A split second before its fangs came in contact with the hem of his robes, it disappeared in a puff of smoke, one of Mushin's ofudas floating to the ground where the snake had been.

Miroku released the breath he'd been holding, not sure whether he should be angry with the older man for taking his prize, or grateful for the saving of his life.

"Still a bit too slow, aren't you, boy?"

He looked up, to find Mushin smirking down at him, another spell-paper lazily dangling from his fingers.

Miroku glared back, pushing awkwardly to his feet.

"Or was there something distracting you?" the old monk murmured quietly, his grin growing wider.

The glare grew fiercer, even as the boy's cheeks began to burn. He folded his arms across his chest and turned away, deliberately ignoring his mentor.

"Although I can't say I blame you..."

------------------------------End Flashback------------------------------

He and Mushin hadn't always seen eye to eye on women, Miroku thought with a wry smile, opening his eyes to stare up at the stars littering the night sky. What was appealing to one wasn't always so for the other. And the older man made a great show of educating him on how to treat the females they encountered.

Some of the time, the women were amused, especially if they were older, but many of the younger ones tended to be disgusted. Females just hadn't flocked to Mushin's side as they seemed to for Miroku at times.

He'd been very smug when they first started to come to him, and bragging to his mentor would usually get him whacked with whatever was handy that could be used as a weapon-- his father's staff more often than not.

He hadn't really thought about it until now, but lately, the women didn't affect him the same way. He went about reading palms and making charms as usual, but he didn't quite enjoy having so many around him.

Maybe it was because he knew they were acting as much as he was, that nothing would come of flirting in the end. Or maybe it was just because he knew they'd be heading on soon, with Inuyasha impatient to reach the next shard or Kaede's village. Maybe it was just getting old.

Then again, it didn't help that he kept picturing a furious Sango any time one of the women began to flirt with him.

He didn't really think he minded it that much, either.

There were times he imagined she was one of those women, how she might react. But he couldn't quite place her there. None of the scenarios that ran through his head rang true.

It had occurred to him that she might behave differently if the man were someone other than him. But then he considered the thought, through the jealousy that hit him. Sango just wasn't the type. She might allow someone else to get closer, but her personality wouldn't change.

At least he didn't have to worry about Inuyasha, or Kouga, or even Mushin, vying for her affections.

He never really had needed to compete with the old monk for a female's attention. Especially as Mushin tended to prefer sake, which did nothing but turn him into a drooling, sleepy old man. Miroku had never seen the appeal of alcohol, and always chose the company of attractive women as his method of escaping the worries he woke to every morning.

Of course his antics had gotten him into more trouble than Mushin had ever encountered while under the influence of alcohol. And it had all started with that same village lord's daughter...

------------------------------Flashback------------------------------

They'd gone through the usual motions, accepting the thanks of the village lord, as well as the man's invitation to stay the night in his home. Miroku didn't really remember much, but then again, he'd been too hopeful that he'd catch a glimpse of the girl he'd seen earlier to really pay attention to the food they were brought, or to how comfortable the sleeping mats were.

But it was one of the few nights that he went to sleep without worrying a single time that it could be his last.

The next morning, they'd been given breakfast, and welcomed the supplies and a couple of other gifts the village lord felt compelled to give them for their services.

Miroku hardly tasted his food as he watched the young girl eat her own meal. He was sorely disappointed when Mushin announced that it was time to leave.

He finished his meal and reluctantly stood up, helping his mentor gather their few belongings. The village leader and his daughter followed them out into the yard, the man thanking them for the help once again.

Miroku grew bored with listening to the usual back and forth "Thank you," and "It was nothing". He wondered at times why saying things just once didn't seem to suffice. Mushin sometimes managed to gain some extra token of appreciation by delaying their departure in such a way, however, so he didn't complain.

So, instead of paying attention to what the two men were saying, he allowed his attention to be drawn to the girl standing only a couple of feet away. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noticing how the bright morning sun made her hair shine.

It didn't occur to him to wonder why this particular girl drew him-- he didn't remember her name, if he'd ever been given it, and she really was just like any other girl he'd seen.

She looked out into the village, appearing as bored with the conversation as he was.

Shifting his feet, he turned slightly, so as to look at her from a much more comfortable position.

She wasn't quite as tall as he was. But if she was around the same age, she'd possibly have a little bit more growing to do.

Her hair fell slightly past her waist, and instead of the combs, a simple white ribbon held some of it in place. Enough of it seemed to be pulled back to keep it off of her face. It looked quite soft in the sunlight, but he resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.

The fall of her hair seemed to emphasize the slight curves of her body. Of course, he knew there were differences in the shape of a female and the shape of a male. He'd seen enough people in his life to identify them. And he'd noted that women seemed softer in places than men were, as if they had extra padding for reasons unknown to him.

But did they really?

There was one way he could find out... but dare he try it?

He'd seen Mushin do it. He wasn't quite sure why the older man seemed drawn to that particular part of the female anatomy, but then again he'd never really focused on girls at all until now.

There was always a first chance for everything, right? It was like trying a new food-- have it once to see if you like it, instead of refusing it right away. He had a feeling he wouldn't find anything distasteful about this experiment, however.

And why shouldn't he try it? The girl was standing right next to him, after all.

He glanced around out of the corners of his eyes, checking for signs that anyone else might notice him and what he was about to do.

No one. Good.

He shifted his feet slightly, inching just the tiniest bit closer to the lord's daughter.

Then, as stealthily as he could, he reached his left hand out and behind the girl, flexing his fingers just before--

The loud smacking sound of a hand striking flesh followed the outraged squeal that left his ears ringing.

Miroku merely stood still as the lord's daughter ran back inside the large hut she called home, the skin of his cheek heating with the force of her slap.

A goofy grin began to spread across his face as he considered the results of his little test.

Yep, he'd seen the same thing happen to Mushin, too.

But oh, had it been worth it!

------------------------------End Flashback------------------------------


	3. 3

Thanks to all of you that have reviewed! I'm glad that most of you liked the way things are going so far. I do have to apologize, to Killer Goldfish and anyone else who doesn't like too-long chapters, however, because this chapter is especially long! There was really only one place to break it in two, and that left me with a tiny chapter first, and a still fairly long one second. 

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the first two!

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Not-So-Broken Dreams

Chapter 3

"Kagome! Help!"

Shippo's half-frantic, half-laughing cry drew Miroku out of his reverie. The monk glanced towards Kaede's hut, just in time to see a kitsune-shaped shadow come racing through the doorway with an Inuyasha-sized one close behind.

Kagome followed them for about two steps, her posture indicating frustration. "Inuyasha!" she called, but the hanyou merely ignored her as usual and continued to chase Shippo around the hut.

Kagome apparently gave up and returned inside-- she knew Inuyasha wouldn't truly hurt Shippo. And if the kitsune had started his teasing in her presence, she probably felt he deserved a little scare.

Her relationship with the hanyou had been strained ever since they'd managed to leave the world on the other side of the mirror. Well, maybe not quite at that particular time, but at least since they began to head for Kaede's village. Kagome had insisted she remembered nothing, especially not a kiss, while Inuyasha covered his own embarrassment at the events of the day by denying how it had affected him.

Kagome had hardly said two words to the hanyou over the rest of the day. In fact, Miroku was surprised she hadn't headed for the well and her own time as soon as they reached the village.

But then again, Kagome was a good friend, and he was positive she had stayed for Sango's sake and not her own.

At least Sango had Kagome for support and comfort. The girl from the future would have provided the same for him, had he sought her out. But he'd been living with his demons for years, where Sango had only recently acquired hers. He could continue as he was, but there were times he feared the demon exterminator would be torn apart by her own grief and sorrow with no one there to lean on. She was strong, and he greatly admired her for that, but there were times when she just wasn't strong enough to bear the weight on her shoulders.

If only it were him that she would turn to.

He sighed and mentally berated himself for the thought. He couldn't let himself think that way until things were over. When Naraku was defeated, he would be free to court Sango, free to tell her how much he--

No, he wasn't going there. Things weren't finished, and he wasn't at liberty to voice such words, even to himself.

When things were finished-- only then.

But he'd thought his torture was finally over mere hours before, up until the point that he and the others realized a horrible trick had been played on them, all for the sake of Naraku's gaining even more power than he already possessed.

And by then, it was too late.

Miroku's gaze remained absently fixed on the hut as he once again went over the events of the past few days.

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Looking back on it, he wondered how none of them realized everything, or almost everything, had gone according to Naraku's plan. There had been so many clues, yet none of them realized until it was too late that this was not the end they'd been hoping for.

They'd been chasing Naraku for hours, somehow managing to keep up despite his usual tricks. They followed his movements through the forest, having to rely more on Sango's tracking skills than Inuyasha's waning demon powers, and finally cornered him in the early hours of the morning. It could have been merely a puppet they were chasing, yet none of them believed that to be the case. This had to be the real thing.

They attributed it to good fortune, or perhaps believed their enemy was on the verge of one of his own "weak" periods of time, as Inuyasha was inevitably going through his own with the absence of the moon. Whichever the case, none of them questioned their unusual luck, instead taking advantage of the opportunity to possibly end the long battle once and for all.

Of course Inuyasha hated missing his chance at the action, but he couldn't risk their enemy figuring out what night brought his own weakness. He waited impatiently, hoping the sun would rise and bring back his demon powers with every breath he took, hoping nothing would happen to his friends, especially Kagome, while he wasn't there to protect them.

Sango and Kirara slowed Naraku down slightly, herding him towards Miroku. What fitting punishment it would be for their enemy to be sucked into the air void he, himself, had created, or so the monk thought. But he'd momentarily forgotten that Naraku's presence usually meant the arrival of poisonous insects perfectly content to be sucked in. He sealed off the kazaana in time, but was too slow to avoid his opponent's attack. Naraku had the upper hand, along with Miroku's throat.

Surprisingly enough, Kagome not only managed to catch Naraku off guard in order to save Miroku, but the second arrow she fired also hit its mark, the holy energy blasting a hole in the demon's chest.

Naraku had changed, revealing what appeared to be his true form-- a giant spider complete with huge red eyes, eight hairy legs, and the distinctive scar on his back. Miroku and Sango knew they needed to immobilize the demon in order to have a fighting chance.

The enormous arachnid began chasing Kagome and Shippo, intent on capturing them as it demolished anything in its path, including the small shack Inuyasha had taken refuge in.

The sun rose as the dust cleared, as if heralding the arrival of a great hero sent by the gods to rid the world of such evil. And yet what was revealed by the dispersing cloud was one very earthly hanyou bent on destroying his enemy, smirking and brandishing a gleaming Tetsusaiga.

With apparent ease, Inuyasha broke the barrier surrounding spider-Naraku, allowing Sango and Miroku to take out the demon's legs. But taking the Shikon shard buried in Naraku's back took a bit more effort.

Their enemy reformed when he was cut or hit with blessed energy, as they'd seen him do many times before. He attempted, and failed, to absorb Inuyasha's body and powers into his own. Neither side appeared to be making any headway.

But Naraku was growing cocky, taunting them even as he pulled himself together yet another time and displayed a more humanoid figure.

Miroku tossed his staff to Sango, who bound it to Hiraikotsu, flinging the combined weapon at Naraku's torso. Before he had the chance to reattach himself to the tentacles spread across the ground, Inuyasha unleashed a Kaze no Kizu. At the same time, Kagome let fly a purifying arrow. Both streaks of energy hit Naraku head-on, resulting in an explosion that lit up the sky as if the sun had come crashing towards the earth.

And then Naraku was gone. Or at least it had appeared so. Not a trace of their enemy was left on the slightly scorched earth revealed when the light faded.

Miroku glanced around warily, afraid to believe it was true. His hand gradually began to feel curiously light, the muscles in his palm twitching slightly. His heart began to pound loudly in his ears at what he thought it meant.

He was afraid to look, but it had to be done; it was the only way to be certain Naraku had truly been defeated. Anxiously, he pulled off the beads and the cloth covering the cursed hole. He then stared, wide-eyed and shaking slightly, as the last swirls of the vortex died away, leaving behind the flesh he'd been born with.

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If several dozen beautful women had suddenly fallen from the sky at that moment, he didn't think he would have noticed. He'd had to sit down to avoid falling down, and his mind had gone blank.

He didn't really remember the others gathering themselves for the return trip to Kaede's village, nor setting up camp for the night. He had the impression of high spirits and excited conversations going on around him, but nothing concrete.

Of course he did recall taking a walk in the general direction Kagome and Sango had gone off, catching a young man he'd never seen spying on the girls in their bath, and subsequently appearing as if he were the one watching them as he tripped down the bank of the hot spring.

The boulder Sango had launched at him had actually brought him fully back to his senses, once he'd reawakened. He supposed he should thank her for that, at least. He didn't quite think she'd find as much humor in the memory as he did, however.

That night, he'd sat near the fire as the others drifted off to sleep, staring at his hand. He kept prodding the skin of his palm with the fingers of his other hand, trying to find some left-over sign that the kazaana had been there just hours before, searching for some tiny hole, and yet finding only solid flesh and bone.

And then it hit him, what the disappearance of the kazaana truly meant.

He'd thought it was all over, that his father and grandfather had been avenged, that he and his family line were finally free of the curse. Even the others had believed Naraku was gone, with the proof of his hand returning to normal. Of course, it had been too good to be true.

He'd gone to visit Mushin and pay his respects to his father and grandfather, calling on each of their graves in turn. Over the days he spent with the old monk and the tanuki, Hachi, the battle and its ending replayed over and over in his mind. And it sunk in that he would be able to look forward to the future and wonder what he could do with the time he now had, instead of worrying whether the next day would bring about his death.

Of course, he'd lived a life of wandering for so long, it was hard to let adventuring go. He'd decided to investigate the strange lunar occurrences which had, incidentally, also been mentioned in the will his grandfather left with Mushin, to be given to Miroku when Naraku was destroyed.

And that had led him back to his friends; not that he'd intended to separate from them permanently. They'd each gone their separate ways in the aftermath of Naraku's defeat, but he knew they were all merely trying to tie up loose ends before continuing with the search for the remaining Shikon shards. They had grown close over the months they'd traveled together, had shared experiences that made them stronger as a unit. Certain relationships had been forged that were not easily dropped, even if they had temporarily moved to the back of their minds.

As luck would have it, he'd met up with Sango first, in the cave mentioned in his grandfather's will, rumored to hold a mirror and another artifact needed to release the moon princess Kaguya, who was sealed inside the mirror itself.

Miroku hadn't truly realized until that moment how much he'd missed Sango during the time they'd been separated. He could finally let himself recognize the emotions that hit him upon realizing the woman about to bash him with a rather large weapon was Sango. He'd merely stared at her for a good long moment, drinking in the sight of her face greedily. "I missed you," he'd blurted before reaching out and dragging her to him, wrapping her in his arms. He'd enjoyed the feel of her against him, oblivious to the onlookers that she'd noticed were staring at them confusedly. Of course, he didn't really think Kohaku and Hachi, the tanuki, could blame him for ignoring them under the circumstances.

And he'd never been one to let a moment go to waste, allowing his formerly cursed hand to rove on its own while Sango was still struggling to push him away.

He'd had to do it, had to know what it felt like when he had the full use of his hand.

Of course, Sango had been predictably outraged and he'd gotten the expected slap, but it had been well worth it. He knew, if given the chance, he'd do the same again, although he did wish she wouldn't hit him quite so hard. Surely the progress in their relationship would warrant even the end of her retaliation for such actions. He didn't quite think she'd see things his way.

After that bright spot in his life, things had gone downhill.

They'd felt a strong malevolent presence and followed it to the source-- a castle which had apparently sprung up from the middle of a large lake. The predictions made by his grandfather seemed to be coming true.

They'd attempted to gain entry to the castle, but were fought off. Miroku had never thought of the kazaana as a blessing, but battling enemies without it available to use brought home how much he had relied on its power.

With the arrival of Inuyasha, Shippou, and another young man Miroku thought looked vaguely familiar, things progressed a little more quickly. Inuyasha, with a little help from Kikyou, who'd shown up out of nowhere and left as mysteriously as she came, defeated the hydra guarding the castle and went inside without waiting to see if anyone followed him.

Shippou explained the events leading up to how he, the young man, and Inuyasha had arrived on the scene as the others took a few moments to recover from the battle before heading towards the castle in the hopes of aiding Inuyasha in rescuing Kagome. The girl had apparently been kidnapped after putting herself directly in line to take an arrow meant for the hanyou.

Yet before they had time to enter the structure in the middle of the lake, things around them became still, living things paralyzed in place, as if caught in a single snapshot of time. Only the bandages they'd used from Kagome's time had saved the four left standing from the spell-- Sango, Shippou, Kirara, and Miroku, himself. It seemed as if the items from the future kept them immune to the time-stopping spell that had been cast on the rest of the world around them.

As they stared in surprise at the stillness surrounding the lake, the scenery shifted. The castle disappeared, and Inuyasha reappeared in its place.

The hanyou seemed a little disoriented, but he seemed to know what they needed to do next. The castle hadn't fully vanished into thin air, rather it had switched sides of the surface of the lake. The water was frozen, unmoving, and seeing the structure on the other side, as if in the reflection on a giant mirror, sent chills down Miroku's spine. It was then that he realized they'd defeated Naraku, only to have a being who could possibly pose an even greater threat to life on the earth be unleashed in his place. Naraku, at least, had yet to make time stand still for a possible indeterminate amount of time.

Inuyasha had made a small hole in the unmoving surface beneath their feet using the barrier-breaking red Tetsusaiga, allowing them all to pass through.

They'd stormed the castle, relieved to see Kagome bound, but unharmed. Inuyasha rushed headlong into battle with Kaguya, and was rewarded for his efforts by the loss of his sword.

Miroku, Sango, and Kohaku joined in the fray as well, each receiving their own injuries and falling back. They watched in growing horror as Inuyasha's human side was drained away into Kaguya's mirror, leaving his demonic powers to take over his body permanently. Inuyasha struggled to subdue the transformation, but was fighting a losing battle.

Sango had tried to stop Inuyasha's changing, but Kaguya easily held her back before she had a chance to destroy the mirror. Miroku, himself, had tried to reason with the hanyou, only to have Inuyasha strike him. But he knew that Inuyasha would listen to Kagome, when none of the rest of them could get through to him. If anyone could bring him back to normal, it was her.

Shippou managed to get her free of Kaguya's magical bonds, using the power of the Shikon shards. Kagome then made a beeline to Inuyasha, hoping to reverse the transformation, if only with her presence alone.

Miroku hadn't realized the bond between the half dog demon and the girl from the future had grown so strong. He watched, somewhat envious at the apparent closeness, as Inuyasha appeared to respond, calming in Kagome's embrace.

If only he could get Sango to cling to him the way the other girl held onto Inuyasha, he thought. But of course, the youkai exterminator dodged his advances, making sure Kohaku was unhurt to keep him at bay.

Inuyasha wasted no time in retrieving Tetsusaiga and unleashing a Kaze no Kizu at Kaguya. Her arm was destroyed, and then reformed, exactly as their old enemy's had. If Kaguya was like Naraku, they could destroy her. They'd done it once, they could do it again.

Yet just when they'd thought they would be able to win against Kaguya, and the world was going to be fully safe, Naraku had returned. He appeared from the least expected place, though they should have seen the signs. The palm of Miroku's hand began to ache and sting, as if something were trying to break through. Dreading the only thing it could mean, he'd removed the beads and unwrapped the covering on his arm, then stared at the growing hole in his hand in shock. Shippo's frantic warning broke him from the temporary paralysis, and he sealed the kazaana before it could destroy himself and the young kitsune.

The air void had almost been welcome during the battle, but for the reason it had returned-- Naraku was not fully destroyed as they had believed. He'd shoved the thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on the fight at hand.

Once they were free of Kaguya and Naraku had escaped, they'd returned to Kaede's village. Miroku had kept up a brave front, but, as always, it had merely been a cover for his inner turmoil.

In a matter of moments, he'd been given new life, and in the same short space of time, it had been taken away. He'd hardly had time to enjoy the first taste of freedom he'd had since he was a young boy.

And now he wanted more. He'd long ago given up on dreaming what he'd do once the curse was lifted. But he'd had the chance to allow those wishes back into his heart, to believe he had many years left ahead of him.

Damn Naraku and the cursed kazaana! he thought, pounding his fists into the ground on either side of him. And damn his grandfather, too, for falling for Naraku's tricks!

Of course, he couldn't blame the old man. Miroku, himself, had gotten into trouble more times than he could count because of a beautiful woman. If Naraku had disguised himself, as he'd been told his enemy had, how would his grandfather have known he was falling into a trap? Inuyasha and Kikyou hadn't discovered until it was too late that the other wasn't who they appeared to be.

His breath caught in his throat as the next idea flitted through his mind. If Naraku somehow found out about his and Sango's growing bond, and the demon wore Sango's face, would he know it wasn't her? Would she recognize that it wasn't him?

Had Naraku studied Kikyou's and Inuyasha's personalities, to know how to affect their attitudes? Surely he had-- at least enough that he could do a fairly convincing immitation and trick them into believing what he said while wearing his disguises.

Inuyasha could probably pick Naraku out by smell, now. And Kikyou could surely sense it was him, and not Inuyasha. In both of their cases, however, they were looking at the situation with hindsight.

He and Sango could tell by the evil energy Naraku gave off that their enemy was close, but if the demon chose to trifle with their hearts, would they realize it before things went wrong?

Miroku sighed and allowed his head to fall back against the tree behind him with a slight thunk. Here was yet another reason he should hold back and not allow his heart to rule his head when it came to Sango. Aside from the fact that he didn't know what would eventually become of himself, whether they would defeat Naraku in time or if he would be sucked into the air void before then, they would never be able to ascertain just how much their enemy knew about them. Nor would they quite be able to tell what he was fully capable of.

Miroku had told himself time and again that he couldn't allow Sango to get any closer than any of the other women he'd known. But it was harder to keep her from invading his thoughts when she wasn't someone he left behind in the last village. She'd proven time and again that she didn't need him or any other man to protect her, which made him want the chance to do so even more.

And just lately, he'd begun to daydream that things would work out in the end, that they'd defeat Naraku. He'd get the chance to have a family, something he hadn't realized he'd missed until joining up with Inuyasha and the others. Mushin and his father had done their best when he was young, and he'd been content. Traveling on his own hadn't been hard when he didn't know any other way. But now he wanted more than that; he wanted a wife and children of his own, to care for, and have care for him when the time came. He wanted to build a home somewhere, and watch as it filled with laughter and hope, things that had been mostly lacking in his life up to this point.

He wanted Sango to be part of that dream.

But right now that's all it was-- just the foolish daydreams of a wayward monk who had nothing to offer except an uncertain future.

"Um, Miroku-sama?"

Miroku opened his eyes and blinked up at the speaker in the dim light that filtered through the trees above.

"Sango said she wanted a bit of time alone earlier, after our bath," Kagome murmured from where she stood a few feet away, "so I told her I'd come get her when the food was ready. Would you mind telling her for me?"

He nodded in response and pushed to his feet, stretching as he stood straight.

Even if she couldn't see the bob of his head, she seemed to take his standing up as an agreement with her request. "Thank you," she said, before returning the way she had come.

He absently watched her rejoin Kaede, Inuyasha, and Shippo in the old miko's hut, then turned to follow the well-known path to the hot spring.


	4. 4

Well, this chapter takes a turn and presents a different point of view. I thought about making more chapters after this that follow Sango's thoughts, as I did with Miroku's, but seeing as this was more his tale than hers, they just didn't quite fit. 

Anyway, here's the next bit, so enjoy!

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Not-So-Broken Dreams

Chapter 4

"Great, another hole," Sango muttered as she inspected the clothing she wore into battle. Although the fabric allowed her to move with much more freedom than normal women's garb, it wasn't impervious to sharp or rough objects.

The youkai exterminator wriggled one finger inside the tear, hoping she wouldn't find any more. She'd have to borrow thread from Kaede again. Not that the older woman would be surprised-- she always had some ready and waiting for the group when they arrived back at the village from another shard hunt.

As she inspected the rest of her battle gear, it occurred to Sango that she was usually the one who needed to repair something, whether it be her weapons or clothing. She was thankful she had been taught at a young age how to care for all of the items, but she really didn't enjoy the sewing.

Now, her mother had found wielding a needle and thread relaxing, and had often tended to the mending while Sango and her father worked on the weapons and armor.

Sango wished she had her mother's skill. Maybe then some of the repairs wouldn't need to be redone later.

Miroku proved to be rather adept with a needle, much to her surprise. He had offered to help her one evening as they waited in the village for Kagome to return from her time.

Sango had "saved" him from becoming the prey of some rather viscious thorn bushes they had encountered earlier in the day while fetching water for Kaede. He had then claimed that mending the tears in her clothing was the least he could do in return for her troubles.

When she thought about it, Miroku had really been fairly well-behaved that day. He hadn't taken advantage of the situation when she stumbled over a rock and he'd managed to catch her before she could hit the ground, nor did he when she stopped him from landing in the prickly plants when his own foot caught on the root of a tree. And she would have sworn he'd tripped on purpose, too, but she had no evidence with which to accuse him of such a thing.

She'd been rather skeptical about letting him touch her clothes, but he'd been serious about the whole business of sewing, settling down against the wall of Kaede's hut and seemingly concentrating all his energy on making nearly perfect stitches.

And at times she thought she heard him faintly humming.

It had already been late that night, when she decided to take on the task of repairing her garments, and she had fallen asleep watching Miroku work as the flames from the fire sent shadows dancing across his face and hands.

When she woke in the morning, her clothing was folded neatly next to her sleeping mat. She had promptly ruined the tidiness by grabbing the material and searching for where she had last seen the hole.

She almost didn't find it, the stitches were so nice and small and tight. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought her mother had come back to life and done the job in Miroku's place.

The monk hadn't been around to thank until later in the afternoon, but Sango made it a point to tell him how much she appreciated his handywork.

He hadn't offered to fix any other tears in her clothing, and she hadn't asked. But she was almost leaning towards considering it this time...

Oddly enough, Inuyasha's fire rat garments rarely needed mending, no matter how badly damaged they became. And yet Kagome still worried that they would need to be fixed.

It was just too bad that the rest of them weren't fortunate enough to have clothes of a similar nature, Sango thought with a sigh.

Though Inuyasha's clothing didn't need to be sewn back together, it still needed to be washed. As did her own garments before they could be repaired.

With that thought in mind, she set about scrubbing the black material of her battle gear in the hot spring.

A tiny smile quirked the side of her mouth as she remembered how often Kohaku's clothing had needed mending...

-----------------------------Flashback----------------------------------------

"I'll never get it right, aneue! I'll never be able to fight like you and chichiue!"

Sango bit her lip to keep from smiling at her brother's plight, stepping back as his wooden practice sword went flying past her ankles.

"Yes you will, Kohaku," she reassured, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. "You're doing fine."

He beat the dirt with his fists, half-yelling, "No, I won't!" before curling his knees up and burying his face on his folded arms.

"Kohaku..." Sango sighed, kneeling down beside the boy. She set her own practice weapon on the ground, reaching out to pull lightly on his arm. "We'll stop for today, then, and start again tomorrow."

He resisted her efforts to uncurl his limbs, sniffling slightly. "It's the same every day, aneue! I'll never win against you. I can't even beat the other boys!"

"Don't tell me they've been after you again--"

Kohaku shook his head, lifting his damp eyes to his sister's fierce expression. "They're... nevermind," he muttered, lowering his gaze to the dirt at his feet.

"They're what?" she asked, suspicious at his tone.

"Nothing, honest. They leave me alone."

Sango cocked her head to the side, brown eyes slightly narrowed. "I'm not sure if I believe you."

He met her gaze, holding up his hands in earnest. "No, really. Ask Chichiue."

"Then what are you not telling me?"

"Huh?"

"What were you going to say?"

"I told you--"

"Then I'll just have to tickle it out of you!" Sango grinned, poking Kohaku's side.

"No! It's nothing!" he laughed, holding his arms to his sides and squirming away.

"Oh really? Then why won't you tell me?" she questioned, reaching around to tickle his other side.

"Stop! I'm telling--" he cried, falling to the ground and trying to escape her fingers. "-- the truth! Stop it!"

"Kohaku--"

"No! Stop!"

"Not until you tell me."

"No-- I told you-- Wait! I can't-- Please!" He tried to wriggle away, but was laughing too hard to move more than a couple of inches. "All right, all right-- just stop!"

Sango gave him one last poke before letting him catch his breath. "So, what is it, then?"

Kohaku continued to giggle in between taking in deep gulps of air, unable to answer her right away.

"Tell me!"

"They're... a little... afraid of you..."

"They... what?" Sango sat back on her heels, hands flat on the ground at her sides, blinking in surprise.

"That's why they leave me alone now. After you went after them last time..."

She stared at the ground, not moving. "Am I that scary, Kohaku?" she asked quietly, wincing slightly at the thought.

"Um... "

She looked at him, knowing he was trying not to hurt her feelings. "I am?"

"Well, only when you're angry--" After a few moments of tense silence, he sighed and sat up. "See, you shouldn't have made me tell you. I don't like it when you're sad, aneue."

Sango gave herself a mental shake and smiled slightly, reaching an arm around his shoulders. "I know, Kohaku. I don't like to see you sad, either. So what do you say we practice one more round for today?"

"Okay!" he grinned, scrambling to his feet. "I'll beat you this time!" he called over his shoulder as he grabbed up his wooden sword.

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And, for once, he had, Sango thought with a sad smile. Their father had distracted her by throwing a well-placed rock for her side, causing her to dodge straight into the path of Kohaku's weapon. Her timing was thrown off, and she had managed to block the blow, but over-balanced in doing so. She'd fallen to the ground, rolling to spring back to her feet, only to find the point of Kohaku's practice sword aimed at her throat. Over her brother's shoulder, she had met their father's gaze, catching his wink before he turned back to the village men he'd been conversing with.

"Aneue!" Kohaku had cried, eyes widening.

"See?" She had looked back at him, smiling. "I knew you could do it."

"Chichiue! Chichiue, did you see? Did you see?"

----------------------------End Flashback------------------------------------

Sango's hands stopped their scrubbing motions in the water and she reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. That happy, excited expression on her brother's face would be forever burned into her memory. But she would probably never see such joy again.

The little boy Kohaku had been was gone. Naraku had destroyed the innocence in his eyes, taken away the laughter that rang through her head as she remembered how things had been.

She thought she'd been on her way to getting her brother back, thought she'd finally gotten her second chance a few days ago, when he was ripped away once more. Naraku hadn't been gone for good, like they'd all thought. All the signs had pointed to his destruction, but he'd somehow hidden himself away in the least expected place.

Had Kohaku known? He couldn't have, or he'd surely have warned her when his old self tried to resurface. Maybe he'd had some hint, however, since he knew not to give up the swallow's cowrie shell he was carrying. But why had he been keeping it in the first place? She found it hard to believe he'd been carrying it since coming under Naraku's spell. Their enemy must have planted it on him, or at least given it to him, with instructions to protect it, or possibly even to use it, before she and the others had managed to destroy Naraku.

And why hadn't she or one of the others realized something was wrong when Kohaku's memories didn't return? If Naraku had truly been gone, wouldn't the spell he'd cast over the boy, keeping his thoughts at bay, have disappeared? Surely Kohaku would have remembered her, their family. He would have recalled living in the youkai exterminator village, and playing with the other children. How he'd trained for so long, and finally, finally earned a place fighting alongside their father. How they'd attacked the youkai in the neighboring village, and--

Sango's eyes widened and she unconsciously bit her lip in concern.

Did she really want him to remember? He was such a sweet, gentle boy, the memory of his attacking his own father and sister would tear him apart.

But what other options did they have?

If the Shikon shard was removed, Kohaku would die. It wouldn't matter whether his memories were intact or not.

But if there were some other way to keep him alive, and Naraku's spell held no sway over his mind, dare she try to do so, knowing how traumatized her brother would be?

If she were in the same position, she knew she would rather be dead than have to live with her actions. Kohaku would think the same, and even more so-- he had hated the thought of killing demons, and he had done much worse in destroying the fighters of their village, even though it had not been his own will to do so.

Knowing a spell had made one kill a family member brought little comfort to the bearer of such an deed.

And if she had ever succeeded in breaking Naraku's spell over Kohaku by killing her brother herself, she knew she would be unable to live with her own conscience. No matter how many times she told herself the boy she saw was not her brother.

But she couldn't bring herself to do it. He was still her little brother and she couldn't bear to see him harmed. And killing Kohaku, and then herself, would solve nothing but her own wish to rejoin her family.

There would be no one left to avenge her people by defeating Naraku.

There would be no one left to rebuild the village and pass on the teachings of the youkai exterminators, so that future generations would be safe.

There would be no one left to make sure a certain monk behaved and kept his hands off of every young girl he met.

Unless that young girl was her.

Sango's wet hands flew to cover her mouth as she sat up straight, her newly-washed clothes lying forgotten in the water.

Where had that thought come from?

She looked wildly around her, searching in the darkness of the evening for some sign that someone else had whispered it in her ear, that it hadn't come from somewhere in her own mind.

She knew she would find no such thing-- it was getting easier to admit to herself, though she would still deny it to anyone else.

She had told herself time and time again that she didn't want to get mixed up with such a perverted male, that allowing herself to develop feelings for him would only end in heartache.

Kagome had warned her of just such an event, as well, but her friend had also reminded her that there could always be that one special girl who could change a man like Miroku. Kagome had begun to think that maybe the monk was really just all talk, that it was just a front he put up for everyone else's benefit, so he could hide behind a mask.

Sango wasn't sure she could believe any of those things to be true. She was certain of one thing, however-- that she was dangerously close to the point of no return, in love with the monk with the cursed hand.

If she hadn't already crossed that line.

And sometimes she didn't quite mind that hand so much, even if she did slap Miroku to keep him in line.

She'd actually begun to wonder if he groped her just to get that reaction. Or to draw her out of her own thoughts and worries, even if they were about him when he was injured.

Sango wasn't sure if she was grateful he hadn't tried it when she'd been thinking about Kohaku once they'd been free of Kaguya and, for the time being, Naraku. She and the others had just escaped from the mirror, and she'd looked around for any last trace of the boy that had disappeared along with their enemy. Miroku had been surprisingly keyed to her thoughts, and brought her to focus on the good side of what had happened, that her brother had seemed to remember who she was at one point, that he had called her "aneue", sister, just before Naraku had exited from his hiding place inside Kohaku's Shikon scar.

That one word stuck in her mind, echoing her brother's childish voice.

She could picture him calling her so many times, in so many ways.

It had actually been rather funny, that he'd been able to name her before he was able to say "father."

He'd been such a little boy then, with not a care in the world. He would smile up at her with big, bright eyes, and just say "aneue," as if it were the most important word of all.

But she would never hear that tone again, for that Kohaku no longer existed. She'd known he would grow up eventually, that he would stop idolizing his older sister, but she hadn't wanted things to end up as they were.

And she, who had always been there to protect her little brother, who had stood up for him every time the other boys in the village had ganged up on him, had been powerless to stop his destruction.

Powerless against the one demon who would take all that she held dear and give nothing in return.


	5. 5

As promised, here's the final chapter to this story! I hope you all enjoy it as much as the others! 

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Chapter 5

"-ngo. ... Sango? Are you all right?"

Sango blinked, looking dazedly towards the quiet voice before turning away quickly and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Sango?"

"I'm fine," she responded, ignoring the tiny hitch in her voice.

Miroku stared down at her bent head. He had a guess as to what was bothering her, but he wasn't sure if she'd appreciate him prying at re-opened wounds. So instead of voicing his concerns, he turned his attention to the more obvious matter at hand.

"Your clothes are rather wet, Sango."

She didn't turn and glare at him. Nor did she move to furiously remove the garments from the water and retreat as far away from him as she could.

He slid one foot free of its sandal and reached a toe to poke at the black material resting in the spring.

He expected her to pluck her clothing from the water before he could even touch it, but she did nothing.

"Sango, if you are finished with the washing, your clothes should be dried..."

Still no response.

She merely remained unmoving, taking in a couple of deep breaths as she apparently tried to hide her sniffling from him while once again lost in her own thoughts.

He knelt beside her, moving slowly so as not to frighten her, and laid one hand on her shoulder as he spoke.

"Sango, would-"

"No, no, I'm fine," she muttered, quickly shaking off his hand and reaching for her clothes in the water.

But all she did was absently pull them halfway out, scrunching them slightly as if to get rid of the excess liquid.

"Here, let me help," he murmured, taking matters into his own hands and dragging her clothes out of the spring. He had quite a bit of the water wrung out of the garments before she reacted.

"No, stop, I-" she half-whimpered, taking great handfuls of the black material and half-heartedly attempting to yank it away from him.

Her battle gear stretched between them for a moment before he relented and finally let go.

Sango clutched the garments to her chest in an almost knuckle-whitening grip, oblivious to the damp soaking into the clothes she was wearing, and let her head droop further.

Miroku paused for a moment, his concern growing as he watched her. He'd never seen the youkai exterminator behave as she was now. Yes, she had been depressed after incidents involving Kohaku, but never had she seemed so totally drawn into herself. Of course, Kagome usually managed to cheer her up during their private girl-talks, and if that didn't fully work, he could always at least make her irritated with him one way or another.

But this was different. Kagome had talked to Sango already, and had apparently felt comfortable leaving the other girl on her own. Which meant that either Sango had appeared to be in a lighter mood, or Kagome's efforts had failed to bring her around. He didn't really think Kagome would leave the youkai exterminator at the spring by herself if the latter were the case.

Not that he could blame Sango for being in such a state in the first place-- she'd had her own share of hopeful happiness before things had been turned upside-down once again.

A rather loud sniffle brought his attention back to focus on her bent head. Her shoulders were tense and shaking slightly, though no other sound escaped.

He shifted closer, reaching out both hands to gently disengage her fingers from their death grip on her clothes. Almost as soon as she felt him tug at the material, she began to fight him, shoving and punching at his chest and arms to fend him off.

He gave up on trying to get the wet garments away from her and took the first opening he found to gather her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly and holding her head to his shoulder.

She continued to beat at his sides with her fists, her sobs growing louder as she tried ineffectually to push him away.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the pain when the top of her head caught him in the chin, but he refused to let go.

Her struggles began to lessen in their fury, and her hands eventually wound themselves into his robes. Instead of trying to force him to release his hold, she tightened her grip as if clutching a rope while awash in stormy waters, the great shuddering breaths she took doing nothing to calm the flood of tears.

Miroku silently continued to hold her. He felt a bit awkward at attempting to comfort her, since she'd never before allowed him to try. But then again, the last time he'd seen her cry had been so long ago-- soon after they'd met, and Sango had stolen Inuyasha's sword to trade it for Kohaku, only to find she'd been deceived by Naraku once again.

Each sob tore at his heart, but he knew she needed to let go of the feelings she usually kept inside.

Though he wasn't quite sure she'd appreciate the fact that it was his shoulder she was crying on.

Mushin was the only one who had ever seen him so upset. There had been a few times when the weight of his curse had seemed too great a burden for a young boy, and one small reminder of what he had lost, or could lose, would set off a tide of emotions that easily swept him away.

But he'd had a lot more time to come to terms with the present condition of his life than Sango had. Most of his anger and frustration had been let out years ago, whereas she still suffered the wound to her heart every time she came into contact with her younger brother.

He wished he could take that pain, and her tears, away for good. But gaining the chance to do so meant defeating Naraku, the end and the beginning of both of their ordeals. He'd bear his affliction for as long as it took, if in the end Sango was relieved of her own.

Instinctively, his arms tightened around her, as if by holding her closer he could keep her demons at bay.

She was finally starting to breathe more slowly and deeply, and she leaned into him little by little. She turned her head to lean against his chest, her ear close to his heart. Her hands loosened, but she still kept them wrapped in the material at his sides, her damp clothing having fallen, forgotten, to lie on both of their laps.

How much time they remained that way, he couldn't tell, but her breathing evened out and seemed to match his own before he thought to disrupt the silence.

He wasn't quite sure what to say, if he should utter anything at all, but she solved the problem for him by speaking first.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost too quietly for him to hear.

"Don't be," he murmured in response. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

Her head shifted slightly against his chest. "But you didn't deserve a beating for trying to help-"

A soft, wry chuckle escaped him. "I am quite sure I deserve more than that, for any actual wrong I've done you."

"Any actual wr--?"

He could tell she'd figured out what he meant, as she stiffened in his arms and let the question drop without finishing it. She didn't reply, but he imagined she was taking stock of the positions of his hands before she began to relax once more.

Several more minutes passed. He figured she was composing herself and preparing to pull away as soon as she felt steady enough to return to the village and their friends, but she surprised him with the question she asked instead.

"Does it hurt? Your hand, I mean. From the kazaana..." Her voice had been hesitant, though once she'd asked the initial question, the rest came out in a nervous-sounding rush.

He slid the arm from around her shoulders and held the hand open, palm-up, for her to see. "Yes, it does. But some of the pain has faded, and I am a bit better equipped to handle it now than when I was younger."

She reached with one hand and gently traced the side of his palm with one finger. "Will you need to see Mushin?"

"Hmm. I suppose I should, although I do not believe he will tell me anything I do not already know, or that I wish to hear."

She hummed a slight response, catching hold of the back of his hand. Before he could react, she brought his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss where her finger had touched a moment ago.

The action startled him more than her concerned query about his hand had. He went completely still, his breath caught in his throat. Had she really just--?

"My mother used to do that. She always offered to kiss my cuts and bruises better."

He cleared his throat as quietly as he could, and waited a moment before speaking, hoping he sounded at least fairly normal. "I don't remember my mother."

She let go of his hand and allowed hers to drop into her lap. Unsure of what to do with his own, he returned it to its former position around her shoulders, taking her actions as a sign that she wouldn't yet draw away. He was surprised at how comfortable she seemed, resting in his arms. If any other circumstances had brought them together, he knew she would have drawn away as quickly as possible. He was thankful for the chance to hold her so close, as it was most likely not going to happen again any time soon.

"Kohaku... doesn't remember ours, either. He was just a baby when she died." She paused, leaning a little more against his shoulder with a little sigh. "I was the one who mostly took care of him, tending his hurts and trying to keep him happy." The hand in her lap moved to wrap around his torso and her fingers tightened in his robes. "He was such a happy little boy..."

"I'm sure he will be again, Sango," he soothed, but she continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"I thought I had the chance to see him that way again. Even though he didn't recognize me... I still wanted him with me, wanted to take care of him. Once he got used to me, I think he could've been happy. Even if he never remembered who I was."

Her breathing had begun to grow irregular once more. He smoothed one hand over her back, hoping to calm her before she grew too agitated.

"I think you were right, earlier. When you said he'd made progress and called me 'aneue.' He must have remembered something, and I'm glad in a way, but it would be so much better if he didn't..."

"Sango-"

"No, it would be better. There are so many bad things for him to recall, it would break his heart to know what he's done. He'd never be happy again. And I never would be either."

"But would he be the same Kohaku you remember, if he didn't have his memories? How can you believe you would be happier with him as he is now, a shadow who knows not who he is, nor who you are?"

Her fists tightened, pulling the material at his sides, and she turned her face so her forehead rested against his shoulder, as if to draw slightly away from what he was saying.

"But he would want to die, knowing that he killed our father, and the others..."

Miroku couldn't disagree with her statement. "I know, but he would only be truly happy if he was whole-- if he knew the past, and was able to come to terms with it, and live despite the pain."

She shook her head against his chest, a slight sniffle escaping her. "I just want him back..." she whispered.

"Sango..." he whispered, tightening his hold. His thumb moved soothingly over her shoulder, trying to ease some of the tension there.

He couldn't truthfully reassure her that it would be all right in the end, that she would succeed in getting Kohaku back for good; that the boy would be able to continue living as he was, with or without his memories restored. If they were to fully complete their quest and restore the Shikon no Tama, Kohaku would no longer be able to remain in this world, unless some other method of bringing him back to life presented itself. He knew Sango realized it, and he couldn't bring himself to further add to her pain by mentioning it now.

"I want him back," he heard her repeat a few moments later. "I want my family and friends back." Her fingers clutched convulsively at his robes as she took in a ragged breath. "Naraku took so much away from me!"

Sango began to shake in his arms, her fists pulling at his clothing as if she wanted to pound something, or someone.

"He took from all of us, Sango," he murmured, running his hands soothingly along her back. "You, me, Inuyasha, Kikyou. Kohaku. He would probably destroy Kagome's family, too, if he could reach them."

"But he can't, he didn't. He destroyed mine! So why am I still here?" her voice grew more frantic as she continued. "Why was I the one left? Why didn't I die with them?"

He gasped at her words, pulling her closer and squeezing her so tightly he was afraid he'd hurt her. But he couldn't stand to let go. His voice took on a harsh edge as he spoke. "Sango, don't ever think you should have died with them. You didn't, so it wasn't your time. You had a reason to live. If nothing else, you're here to finish him, to get Naraku back for taking your family from you, for using Kohaku. If you died, then or now, then he would win because no one would be left to avenge the lives he took." He held her even tighter, wanting to say so much more, yet knowing it could be a huge mistake if he did. "There's still so much left to live for."

He pressed his lips to her hair, covering one of her hands, where it rested in a fist against his chest, with one of his own. "We need you, Sango." He feared she would hear the "I" in that statement, yet at the same time he hoped that she wouldn't. If she called him on it, he could end up making promises he couldn't yet keep, no matter how hard he wished to.

The tense moments of silence seemed to drag on as he waited for her to refute his claim in one way or another. But no other words drifted to his ears. He hoped she believed what he said, that she wasn't sinking even deeper into dark thoughts.

A great sigh heaved its way out of her lungs and she allowed herself to relax slightly, leaning into Miroku as he continued to hold her tightly to him. Her shaking had reduced itself to faint shivers every so often, and her mind was exhausted. Her fists slowly unclenched, her fingers lightly curled against his chest.

Miroku let go of her hand as it opened, reaching up to smooth a damp strand of hair back behind her ear. It was rare that she allowed him so close, especially for so long a time, and he wasn't about to ruin it.

Impulsively, he reached down and kissed one of the fresh tears away from her cheek. He realized it was a mistake seconds later when he couldn't help but repeat the gesture.

Sango stiffened, breath stilling in her throat, when she felt his lips touch her skin. She didn't dare open her eyes as her heart began to pound.

The tiny kisses followed the few tears still trailing their way down towards her chin.

He stopped a breath away from touching his lips to hers, and she swallowed hard, taking in a great gulp of air.

What was he doing? the tiny part of her brain that was still working wondered. Taking advantage of their closeness to steal the kiss he'd tried to get from her earlier? Surely he wouldn't, not now, when he knew she was vulnerable and couldn't push him away...

Her hands tightened in his robes, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she waited for him to make his next move.

"Sango..." he breathed on a sigh, the sound barely audible over the beating of her heart.

But he didn't kiss her. He didn't move away, nor did he come any closer.

She waited, hardly daring to breathe, for several seconds before slowly opening her eyes.

His own were closed, and so close she wouldn't be able to look away if he opened them.

She took a shallow breath and let it out, wondering why he hadn't moved.

As if he sensed her scrutiny, his eyelids fluttered and lifted, his deep violet gaze ensnaring her.

"H-Houshi-sama..." she stuttered, the husky sound of her voice startling in the quiet.

The tiniest of smiles lifted the corner of one side of his mouth while he brought one hand to her cheek to brush away the last of her tears. He watched her, unblinking, for a long moment before leaning up slightly to press his lips to her forehead.

His arms tightened and he held her there until she relaxed once more.

Her own hands found their way loosely around his waist and she leaned into him slightly, grateful for the chance to enjoy his warmth.

"Thank you, Houshi-sama," she murmured, not quite sure if she was thanking him merely for the comfort, or for also not taking the opportunity when it was presented, as he usually did.

They would have stayed that way for the rest of the night if a slight grumble hadn't risen up from somewhere between them, quite loud in the quiet of the evening.

"If you're all right now, we should probably go back," Miroku informed her, belatedly remembering why he'd originally gone to find her. "The food is most likely cold by now."

Sango pulled back slightly, blinking up at him in surprise. "Oh," was all she said as her eyes dropped to the level of his chest and she sat back on her heels.

He wasn't sure why the thought of cold food should upset her, but it appeared that it had. She'd drawn back and wouldn't look at him. "Sango, what is it? What did-"

"If the food is already cold," she began in a small, demure voice, so that he had to lean forward to hear her, "then you won't mind--"

As she continued, she sat up a little and lifted her face so she was about the same distance away from nearly kissing him as he'd been earlier. His eyes grew wide as he wondered just what she was going to say, or do.

"--if it gets a little colder, now will you?"

And before he could react, she'd used both hands to push him backwards and slightly to the side. He didn't quite end up in the hot spring, though he was sure she'd meant for him to do so. One of his sleeves was soaked, and he'd very nearly cracked his head on a rock, but otherwise he was unscathed.

He leaned up on his elbows, watching her back away with her hands up over her mouth to smother her laughter. She finally gave up hiding it, scrambling to pick up her belongings before he could retaliate. Her giggles floated back to him as she ran off towards the camp when he pretended he was going to leap to his feet and come after her.

For an instant, he'd caught a glimpse of the Sango that had existed before Naraku had interfered in her life. If defeating him meant a return of that more carefree, happy girl, Miroku had even more of a reason to want the world to be free of their enemy.

And even more of a reason to want to live to see it.

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After wringing out his dripping sleeve as best he could, Miroku pushed to his feet. He looked up at the stars shining overhead, allowing the quiet sounds of the night to wash over him.

Things were looking much brighter than they had earlier in the day.

After all, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, he thought with a small wry smile.

He glanced out at the still waters of the spring, taking one last deep breath of fresh night air.

Releasing it slowly, he sent a prayer heavenward that all would be well in the end-- for all of them-- before turning and following Sango's retreat back to the village.

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Ending author's notes:

Okay, first of all I have to send out a giant thank you to notoes for beta-ing this for me! With all the other stuff you do, I'm grateful that you took the time to read it through and let me know how things were going!

Now, I'm sure I disappointed in not turning this into a lemon (they were alone at the hot spring-- plenty of possibilities, I agree), but besides the fact that I don't think I'd be any good at writing one, I was going with wanting to keep this as in line with the main storyline as possible. The movies have to return everything to the way it was when the extra pieces of story were added in, and I went with wanting to keep things in the same vein. Yes, the relationship between Miroku and Sango may be a little bit altered, a little bit deeper, but still not quite so dramatically changed.

I wasn't quite sure where exactly the movie storyline was supposed to fall within the series, whether it was after a certain scene between Miroku and Sango, or before. So I tried to write the story so that it could be interpreted as occurring at either time, and left out any references to that particular event. I hope it still seemed to flow smoothly.

Also, I don't believe there has been much mentioned in the series about the mothers of either Sango or Miroku, so I kindof made my own assumptions here. The same goes for any other event that I mentioned occurred, that was never depicted or referred to in the manga or the anime. I know I haven't read quite a large chunk of the manga, but I don't think what I've missed really covered any significant details of either of these characters' pasts. Feel free to let me know where something is, so I can go find it, if I did miss something, though!

Interestingly enough, I didn't realize until seeing a review by Pyrinsomniac that I still had no one really realize that Miroku was suffering, too. Sango hints at it, but doesn't really address the fact that he hides his own pain so well. In looking back at what I've written, there really wasn't an opportunity to address it, with how the story went. If this last chapter had been told more from her point of view, there may have been a time or two where it would have occurred to her that he had faced his own problems in the fights with Naraku and Kaguya, and needed a bit of sympathy of his own. But maybe that's just fodder for another tale... :)

I really wasn't sure what people would think of a mostly meditative-type story, but this is the way it came out-- as Miroku, and eventually Sango, thinking over the events of the movie, and relating it to things that had happened earlier, even though it's not part of the canon storyline. Thanks so much to those of you who let me know what you thought!

I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it. Maybe now I can get my mind back on Sight Unseen, and getting that long story finished!! (Not that I don't have a whole stack of sticky notes full of short little ideas that popped into my head at one time or another... and none of them anything that ties in with any story I've already written!) And of course the couple of other ideas I had started to write a bit on, that I just rediscovered a couple of days ago while going through files from my other computer!

Anyway, thanks again for reading!


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